


these emotions i feel, i don't understand

by venominmyveins



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Confessions, Cousin Incest, Don't Like Don't Read, F/F, Platonic Hurt/Comfort, Slight alterations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:46:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21633871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venominmyveins/pseuds/venominmyveins
Summary: When Manon escapes her grandmother and ends up as Aelin's prisoner, she begins to feel a whole array of new emotions. Some good, some bad, she doesn't understand. One thing she does know, is how much she wants to see Asterin again. But it isn't that simple. It never is.
Relationships: Asterin Blackbeak/Manon Blackbeak, Manon Blackbeak & Dorian Havilliard
Comments: 5
Kudos: 17





	these emotions i feel, i don't understand

**Author's Note:**

> It is I again, entering the Masterin tag after years, I believe. But I love these two so much. I may or may not be back in Masterin hell (where most people assume I'll be going bc of this hehehe). So I hope you enjoy

Ever since she'd been captured by Aelin, Manon's sleep had been restless. Not that she'd been sleeping well before but here, trapped in the bowels of the ship and bound in chains, was a lot less comfortable. 

Her captors, at least, weren't cruel. They fed her well—though no blood of men, she thought with a low chuckle—and hadn't hurt a single hair on her head yet. Yet, was the key word. They might, she never knew but so far she had been healed and unharmed. Didn't mean they liked her though. 

She recognised the fae warrior that dogged Aelin's every step like a loyal puppy. Pathetic really. He didn't like her. 

Well, he had almost choked her to death that one time. And acted like _she'd_ been in the wrong. 

So really she should hate him. 

But Manon didn't care for stupid grudges when it got her nowhere. He could glare and growl as his mate spoke all he wanted but she wasn't interested in him. He wasn't the one in charge. Playing nice with him wasn't going to do anything. 

Besides, there were more pressing people for her to hate. 

Manon's mind flashed back once again to her grandmother. She saw her face, her mouth twisted in a sneer as she kicked her over the balcony. She was the one she hated. 

Manon had hated her from the moment she laid eyes on the brand on Asterin's stomach. Vicious, cruel, marring the skin of her Second so that everyone who saw it knew her shame. Manon wanted to rip the Matron's throat out for it. 

But she hadn't. 

She hadn't done anything. 

And now it was far too late. Now she didn't know where they were. She was sure their wyvern were more than capable of escaping but that didn't stop the tiny tremor that spread through her heart. Manon was a witch. She didn't care. She was heartless and cruel. 

But that wasn't true anymore. 

Something had changed and it broke with Asterin. Asterin had changed her in a way she couldn't figure out. Manon had wanted to give up everything for her. But she'd been given a second chance. 

Manon lay on her back, trying her best to sleep. She didn't know how long she was going to be here but she knew she needed to get out. Her Thirteen were out there. Resting, recovering, she was pretty much healed. How she was going to escape was beyond her—the chains were solid. 

She needed a plan but first of all someone to free-

There was a noise by the door and she groaned. Very few people ever visited her down in her cell—most staying away in fear she’d tear them apart even with her limbs bound. She would, if given the chance. But for some reason, the prince liked to frequent her cell. 

“You know, one might start to believe you have a crush on me,” Manon drawled without sitting up. "Always wandering down in the middle of the night." 

His scent washed into the room, mingled with magic. It was indeed Dorian who stood in the doorway, hands bathed in fire that lit in his face. He wasn’t looking well, dark bags under his eyes. 

“And? Many women would swoon for me,” Dorian said in jest, but he had no power to it. 

“I am no mortal woman. Don’t assume my tastes akin to your kind.” She’d taken her fair share of lovers over the years and found pleasure in the strangest of times. But unfortunately for the prince, he was not of her interest. If it wasn’t for the magic that lingered in his blood, then it was the crown he laid claim to. She had no desire to mess with them again. 

Dorian sighed. “What a pity.” 

“Hmph. Did you expect to appear in the dark and have me fall at your feet, princeling? It’s not in my nature.” Manon raised her head to look at him properly. 

Anytime she’d seen Dorian before, he’d been composed, hiding his true nature behind the wall of flirt. He was a mask of something, changing depending on the situation. Of course, the black collar had been around his neck had trapped him further. 

But now, his eyes were colder, like he’d finally snapped. 

While she wasn’t afraid of him, Manon knew of the magic that lingered within him. It would be best not to anger Dorian, not when she was so vulnerable. 

"What do you want?" 

“I don’t know what I want,” Dorian admitted. “But you’re different from everyone else.” His eyes flickered. “You hate me just as much as I do.” 

And the truth comes out. 

Manon knew there had to be something else. Humans were ever so complicated with their feelings, there was always something wrong with them. Dorian was no different. He had lost a lot and now felt the strain it had. 

“And what? You wish to mope about my cage and whine about your feelings?” 

Was she being cruel? Yes. Manon didn’t care. Because he wasn’t the only one hurting right now. 

Dorian shook his head and a small smile peeked upon his lips. “No, strangely, I don’t think you’d like that.” He stepped inside and sat down on a chair. 

“What is it you want? Why did you save me?” 

Dorian had never said it himself but Manon learned from whispers and snarky comments that it was he who dived into the water after her. He'd pulled up aboard and saved her life. Yet he hadn't said a word to her about it. If it was Aelin, she'd surely have demanded a life debt. But Dorian didn't seem the type for blackmail. 

“Your mount-” Dorian shrugged, “-cares a lot about you. I didn’t think you deserved to die in the sea.” 

Kind. Dorian was kind. Manon usually rolled her eyes at these shows of good nature but he alone seemed to be genuine. Yet so broken. It was tragic really. He might have made good king. 

“What about you? What do you want?” 

“Out of these chains.” 

“Why?” 

Manon’s nostrils flared. Beyond the obvious freedom? “My Thirteen are out there. They don’t know I survived.” She hadn’t intended to survive, willing to throw her life away for Asterin in a heartbeat. “I need to find them and I can’t do that here.” 

But of course, Aelin would never let her walk. She was frustrating, to say the least. 

“Is that what motivates you to carry on?” 

The Thirteen? Manon didn’t know. She didn’t want to die but what was there left for her? An outcast of both Crochan and Blackbeak, the witches had nothing left for her. They’d kill her on sight. Where else could she turn? 

Briefly her thoughts went to Elide, the sweet human who had started to take down her walls. Where was she? She’d gone in search of Aelin, yet she was not here. Manon worried. The world was cruel and would take advantage of someone like her. She hoped she was safe. 

And her thoughts came back to her Thirteen. They needed her as much as she needed them. And she was lost without them. 

“Yes.” 

Dorian chuckled. “I wish I had something like that. Something I loved and could fight for.” His expression shifted. “But not anymore.” 

“Witches don’t feel love,” Manon said. 

Except Asterin. Asterin had fallen in love and bared the scar on her stomach as a result. So maybe it was possible. 

Manon’s chest ached for some strange reason. Like a deep pain yet it wasn't physical. Manon blinked. She didn't like it. 

“Perhaps. But I am still jealous.” 

It was then she realised the real reason he was here. For a distraction. For something—or someone—who could just take his mind away from the world. He'd lost. And he wanted to forget. Manon understood. She could do without thinking. 

“You are too mopey. Where’s the swagger disappeared to?” Manon arched an eyebrow. “You and I could have had so much fun in your prime.” 

That drew a smile out of him. “You don’t care much for feelings, do you?” 

“As a prisoner of your dear queen, I reserve the right to not care.” Manon sat up. “Come. Talk to me. I’m bored out of my mind.” _Worrying._

And they did, throughout the night. The prince was good company, despite his annoying human feelings that crept in with every word. Admittedly, he kept them quite under wraps but they were still there. They lingered. 

“Asterin? She was the blonde one, right?” 

Somehow they always ended up back here. Manon couldn’t escape thinking about her. Asterin had been the final push over the edge. The motivation she needed to finally turn her blade to the one who deserved it, her grandmother. 

“Mmhmm. I am impressed you remember. Didn’t think you had eyes for anyone but me.” 

“And you say _I’m_ the self conceited one? _Right_ ,” Dorian snorted. “No, I remember her. And she’s pretty hot, to be honest.” 

A possessiveness rose within Manon that surprised herself. Before she could stop it, a growl left her lips. 

Dorian arched an eyebrow. “I know you aren’t human but… I’m not moving in on your territory.” His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Well, that was enlightening.” 

“Shut up.” 

Dorian laughed, the first time she’d heard him do that. At least he seemed to be better than earlier. Manon didn’t know why she was so possessive over Asterin. Her Second was that, _hers_. She could belong to no one else and mere idea that Dorian looked at her like that, sent a vicious flame through her body. 

Manon felt her cheeks heating. What was this feeling? 

Dorian was watching her, chuckling under his breath. “Oh, the big bad scary witch isn’t as tough as she says she is.” 

“You are so irritating,” Manon grumbled. “Breathe a word of this and I will personally eat your liver.” 

Dorian raised his hands in defense. “Right. Cool. Understood.” 

They talked for a bit more. After another few hours, Dorian left so that no one would notice his absence. It wasn’t like he was sleeping anyway. Manon understood and laughed at his embarrassment. Even here, he needed to present a front to the others. Were they not his allies? The fae had always played weird games. 

Manon saw the sun's rays peeking through her window. So morning had finally come. She hadn't even noticed so much time had passed. Dorian could be distracting if he wanted to be. 

With nothing else to really do, Manon lay back down. 

Her mind strayed, and as usual wandered back to her. Asterin. Manon had heard her scream for her that day, beg for her to stop, to not give her life for hers. And Manon hadn’t listened. She’d made her choice when she turned on her grandmother. 

She wondered what Asterin was doing now. As her Second, she no doubt led the Thirteen in her place. Was she looking for her? Of course, the rest of the Ironteeth were after them but no other coven could match hers. Still. There were scores of witches to tear them to shreds. All it took was one lucky one. 

Manon groaned and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think about Asterin because it made it ache in her chest so much worse. She hated it. She’d never felt so weak before. Emotions like this were stupid. 

She wasn’t weak. 

Manon curled up with her cloak—her dead sister’s cloak—and tried to rest. It wasn’t easy. Outside, the rest of the ship went about their day as usual while she was captive below. They weren’t quiet and with her ears, ever shout echoed through the wood. Abraxos’ roars as he soared around the ship were at least familiar. A sign that she wasn’t alone just yet. Even in enemy territory, he was here for her. 

Manon closed her eyes. 

She dozed in and out of consciousness, waking whenever someone walked close to her room. No one ever entered or came near, but the instinct was still within her. She wasn’t safe. And for that, she wasn’t going to sleep. 

It took maybe a day or two—Manon wasn’t keeping count—before she registered a shift in the air. Someone came down for food regularly and she paid them no heed. It wasn’t even Dorian, who began to frequent her room when he wasn’t able to sleep. 

She sat up, hissing at the clank of her chains. Still weighted around her wrists, she sat and waited until the door opened. 

She had known it was Aelin before she saw her, scented her. Her arrogant footsteps were enough to mark her as different. Dorian too, and then the fae warrior that rarely left Aelin’s side. Her mate no doubt, from the noises that came from their cabin. Like beasts, if one didn't know any better. 

Manon met their gazes equally, not giving anything away. 

But it was when the other one came into the room did her eyes shift. 

He was tall and golden, with a fae face but there was something off about him. She inhaled, trying to catch his scent on her tongue. 

“Who is this?” she asked dryly. 

Dorian arched and eyebrow and glanced at the male. “You've met him before. He’s Fenrys—sworn warrior of Queen Maeve.” 

She had met Fenrys before, that was true. Manon’s nostrils flared as she sought out his scent. It was barely detectable, not with Aelin and Rowan here but she caught it. Not fae. 

“No, he’s not,” she said. 

Her hackles raised and her nails were out just as Fenrys lunged. 

She was ready for him but he never got there. Rowan—she remembered his name now—sent him spinning with his power. A vicious blast of wind and the not-fae male hit the ground before them. 

Aelin’s instincts threw up a wall of flame before he’d even skidded to a halt. “What the hell?!” 

On his knees, Fenrys clawed at his throat, gasping for air. Rowan was choking him. 

Dorian walked to her side, giving her a silent nod, as ice started to gather on his fingertips. Manon barely acknowledged him. The scent was too familiar. She should know what it was. 

“What do you mean that’s not Fenrys?” Aelin asked her, through her eyes never left him. 

Manon had no answer yet. It was on the tip of her tongue, she’d encountered whatever it was recently. What was it? She cursed herself internally. 

Then Fenrys inhaled and got to his feet, smile crooked as he looked at the wall of flame. Rowan grunted. As if his magic had worn off him. 

He started to glow, melting as his true form emerged. Manon’s blood ran cold. She’d known but hadn’t dared assumed. She hadn’t wanted to believe it followed her here, to a ship full of fae warriors. But they hadn’t noticed for their bravado, so maybe they weren't so dangerous. 

Then the queen’s cousin was at her side, keys unlocking her shackles. She didn’t move. White limbs with a thin bony body, it was her. 

“What are you?” Aelin asked. 

Manon knew now. “Erawan’s Bloodhound.” 

That foul creature was here. She thought she'd lost it. Yet it managed to follow her. 

“At your service,” it said with a disgusting smile. “So your guts stayed in.” 

“Where’s Fenrys?” Aelin demanded. 

The creature let out a low chuckle. “On patrol of the ship, on another level, I assume. Unaware, just as you were unaware, that one of your own wasn’t truly with you while I-” 

“Ugh, another talker,” Aelin said, rolling her eyes. “Let me guess: you killed a sailor, took his place, learned what you needed to about how to get Manon off this ship and our patrols and… what? You planned to carry her off in the night? You look like you could barely lift a fork—and haven’t in months.” 

By the gods, she was arrogant. 

It appeared the Bloodhound thought similarly because it hissed. 

Manon laughed. 

“Honestly? You could have just snuck in here and saved yourself a thousand stupid steps—” 

“ _Shifter_ ,” the Bloodhound hissed with enough venom that Aelin stumbled over her words. 

Manon followed its gaze to where a ghost leopard sat in the corner, teeth bared. She had come to learn that it wasn’t actually a beast but a woman, another ally of Aelin’s. Lysandra interested her. Besides her pretty face, there was something enchanting about her. Wild and free that reminded her overwhelmingly of _her._

“ _Shifter_ ,” it hissed again. 

It had thrown Aelin off, though she didn’t want to admit it. She tried to continue. “As I was saying—You really brought this upon yourself-” 

"I came for the Blackbeak heir," the Bloodhound interrupted, clearly having none of it. "But look at you all: a trove worth your weight in gold." 

Something changed in its withered smile and Aelin immediately went on the attack. But like Rowan's magic, hers too melted away. Steam rolled off the creature but no harm done. 

"You should have given me the witch," the Bloodhound sneered and ripped the porthole clean out of the wall. "Now he knows who you travel with, what ship you sail…" 

Sensing it about to move, Manon opened her mouth in warning. 

But someone got their first. 

A black-tipped arrow slammed into its knee, then the other. The creature shrieked. The real Fenrys appeared, armed and snarling with a scent that was clearly fae. Manon had no idea how they hadn't noticed. 

As soon as it was down, the Bloodhound wrenched itself to its feet. Its blood was black, _rotting_. But it was still alive and walking. 

Manon stepped forward, letting her nails slide out with a tiny _shink_. Magic didn't work against this creature but iron would. If it could bleed, it could die. And she wasn't going to let it live another second in this world. It chased it her too long. 

But the Bloodhound chucked a strap of black leather into the centre of the room. 

Manon's heart stopped. 

"Your second screamed when Erawn broke her," it crooned to her. "His Dark Majesty sends this to remember her by." 

_No, no, no-_

Manon's world swayed. 

The Bloodhound gave her a mock bow. “A gift from a King of the Valg… to the last living Crochan Queen.” 

Manon didn’t care what it said, what the others heard about her. She stared at the braided leather band and willed it to vanish. _No, no, no-_ It was Asterin’s. She wore it everyday, even when she didn’t have to but she did anyway. _No, no, please-_ Manon never begged in her life but she pleaded with whatever forces were out there that it wasn’t true. 

_How dare-?!_

Manon couldn’t think but the roar silenced every thought as rage consumed her. Desperate rage. She threw herself at the Bloodhound and screamed. 

Maybe she screamed Asterin’s name, maybe she screamed curses, she didn’t hear it because it was just noise to drown out the pain. 

Fenrys’ arrows pricked at her as she tackled it to the ground. She didn't care. It responded with equal fury, claws and teeth snapping for her sweet flesh but she barely felt it. Her hands tore into it, hoping that with it she could rip the lie from its throat. 

No one else had moved. 

Except Dorian. 

Her one ally in this cursed place moved with his phantom hands. He wrenched the claws away from her, pinning the creature to the ground. 

Manon whirled to him, teeth pulled back in a snarl, because she didn’t need his help— 

“Be done with it,” Dorian said softly. 

He was trying to help her. Like no one had done for him. 

Manon turned back and her iron nails clicked. She was going to tear it limb from limb. It didn't deserve anything else. Her nails dug into its arms. 

“Don’t you want to know what your Second said before she died? What she begged for?” 

Manon hesitated. 

“What a horrible brand on her stomach— _unclean_. Did you do that yourself, Blackbeak?” 

Manon felt like she wanted to scream but also cry. _No._

“A baby; she said she’d birthed a stillborn witchling.” 

Manon couldn’t breathe. 

She didn’t care that the Bloodhound took its chance, that it surged from beneath her, jaws stretching as it lunged for her throat. She would have let it. 

It was not Aelin’s fire or Rowan’s wind that broke its neck before it touched her. 

But invisible hands. 

Manon turned to Dorian, visibly shaking. She didn’t care about the weakness she was showing. “How _dare_ you take my kill-” 

She wasn’t angry with him. But with herself. 

Asterin was dead. And that meant the rest of the Thirteen had fallen too. There was no hope for her left. Without them, she was nothing. What motivated her now, princeling? 

But Abraxos roared above deck and Manon remembered there was one creature left in the world that needed her. 

She was out the door before the screaming started. 

_Where is he?_ The world wouldn’t be so cruel as to take him too. Manon wouldn’t let it. Tears stung her eyes as she emerged into fresh air for the first time in weeks but she blinked them away. 

She was a Blackbeak. She didn’t love. She didn’t cry. She was heartless. 

But Manon was feeling less and less like that was true. 

Six creatures tore into the crew above deck, withered and winged, armed with deadly claws and poison. The Bloodhound hadn’t come alone. More were appearing on the horizon, dark bodies blotting out the sun. 

_Ilken_ , it whispered to her. 

Beside her, the others stepped into battle but she had eyes only for her wyvern. He was airborne, fending off an attack from the ilken. Manon’s nails slid out and she screamed. 

No more. She wasn’t going to lose him too. 

The battle had been a blur. Manon didn’t want to remember it. It had been years since she fully lost herself to her instincts and killed. The control was what made her better. But Manon surrendered her control because she didn’t want to feel anymore.  
When she stepped out the other side, Abraxos was alive. Injured but alive. 

She wrapped her arms around his snout and pressed her face against his familiar scales. 

“You stupid creature,” she muttered. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” 

Abraxos’ weak but affectionate snort was enough. His wings fluttered weakly but he was still here. And so was she. For now, that was it. She didn’t need to think about anything else. 

Manon spent the night healing him, patching his many wounds. He hadn’t been poisoned but he’d lost a lot of blood. Manon refused to let anyone else near him. 

One, because she didn’t like or trust them. Two, because she needed something to do. She was terrified what her mind would get up to without distraction. She didn’t want to think. 

Abraxos blew her hair with a snort, trying to cheer her up. He was attuned to her emotions, didn’t like that she was like this. Stupid creature. She didn't need cheering up. 

After what seemed like an age, Abraxos was completely patched up. He’d heal. But he just needed to rest. 

“Don’t worry about me,” Manon grunted, pushing his snout away. “Go rest. I will too.” 

She didn’t think she’d be able to sleep, she didn't want to. But Abraxos needed it. 

He didn’t want to either but she didn’t give him much choice. 

Manon trooped back to her room on weary feet. They’d patched up the giant hole and cleaned the room so no trace of the Bloodhound was left behind. But the leather band was sitting on her bed. _Her._

She sank onto her bed and buried her face in her pillow. At least there were no chains anymore. One blessing out of this cursed evening. 

Maybe she fell asleep. The ship was awake even at this hour, making repairs. Its rhythmic rocking soothed her nerves. Relax… 

“Manon…” 

A familiar voice, tone light, lilting. 

Manon wanted to hear it again. She never thought she'd be able to. 

“Manon. Hey.” 

Manon sat up and there she was, standing in her doorway. She was a vision, like an angel returned from the dead. As beautiful as she was deadly. Lips curled in a familiar chuckle. 

Asterin. 

Every word Manon had died on her lips as she took her in. She hadn’t seen her since Sorrel dragged Asterin kicking and screaming from the room. She didn't think she'd see her again. 

“Hey. You look like a mess,” Asterin chuckled, shutting the door behind her. “What’s wrong with you?” 

Manon drank in the sight of her, never wanting to let her go again. She’d been worried she’d forget her face, that cursedly beautiful face. Asterin’s eyes twinkled in the low light, drawing the gold from the obsidian black. 

“Hey. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Asterin grinned. “Missed me that much?” 

More than life itself. Manon couldn’t move, just stared so Asterin moved towards her. Her footsteps were light, dancing across the wood until she stood over her, head tilted. 

“Oh, Manon…” 

Manon raised her head to look at her but Asterin sank to her level. Kneeling before her with a gentle smile. 

“I’m so sorry,” Manon breathed. 

“Whatever for?” 

Asterin tilted her head and Manon's stomach fluttered. Something shifted in her core. Seeing Asterin kneeling before her… it was doing things to her body. 

"For…" 

Manon trailed off when Asterin's fingers slid across the bed and reached her hand. The touch was soft, shy at first but Manon didn't pull away. As if taking that as consent to push forward, Asterin shifted forward. 

"Manon," Asterin's voice was soft as she settled between her legs, gazing up at her like she was the world. 

"Asterin..." 

When she was this close, Manon could feel the heat of her body. Gentle touches, not daring yet, but enough to let her know what was going on. Up her arms then across her shoulders. Asterin cupped her cheek, lightly scratching as she pulled her down. 

Asterin hovered over her mouth, breath mingling with hers. But before she could kiss her, Manon turned away. 

"What's wrong?" Asterin murmured. 

Manon shook her head. "It isn't real." 

"What isn't?" 

"This. You." Manon raised her head to stare at her. Her eyes were gold flecked black but they weren't the ones she wanted to stare into. "My Asterin's dead." 

Asterin's expression shifted and she stepped back. "Oh, Manon…" 

Manon shook her head. "No. No, I can't do this." It hurt too much. 

"Manon." 

"No-" 

" _Manon_." 

Manon blinked her eyes open and she was still on the ship. It was the same room, same bed, same night but Asterin wasn't there. Her heart clenched. 

The leather band was lying next to her. Manon's fingers closed around it so hard her nails cut dents into her palm. 

"You were moaning in your sleep." Asterin wasn't there but Dorian was, leaning in her doorway with his hands full of fire. "Are you okay?" 

"Do I look like I'm okay?" Manon grumbled and she turned over. 

"No." 

Manon rolled her eyes. She would have entertained Dorian with conversation the night before but she wasn't in the mood. She'd turned away from Asterin in her dream but now all she wanted to do was go back and see her again. But Dorian took a step into the room. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

"No." 

Dorian didn't leave. He lingered, waiting, watching. 

"Are you insistent on watching me sleep?" Manon growled and turned over. "What do you want?" 

Dorian shrugged. "I can't sleep. And it seems you're worrying." 

Manon groaned. "You humans are so irritating." But she sat up anyway. "Fine, I concede." 

"What were you dreaming of?" 

Manon sighed. "Her." 

She'd finally admitted it to herself. The hold Asterin had on her. She hadn't understood it then and she didn't understand it now. Asterin was compelling. She wanted her back. 

"Your Second? Asterin?" 

Manon nodded. 

"... what happened?" 

Manon's cheeks heated and she looked away. She'd never dreamed of someone in that way. When she dreamt, it was rare she ever remembered them. But when it came to her, it was different. She didn’t know what was different. 

“I saw her.” 

She didn’t want to say anymore. 

“The creature was lying,” Dorian said. “I tasted its lie.” 

Manon wanted to believe him. She knew Asterin and the rest of the Thirteen were skilled, definitely enough to evade capture. But she didn’t know exactly what Erawan’s minions were capable of. But Asterin… 

Manon sighed and put her head in her hands. She hated this. She hated feeling so weak. Where had her iron heart gone to all these weeks? 

“Today was intense,” Dorian said. “But you did well. The Bloodhound-” 

“I don’t wish to talk about it,” Manon interrupted. “Can we talk about something else?” 

Dorian nodded and he dimmed his flames slightly. 

“Like what?” 

“I don’t know. Anything.” Manon leaned back against the bed and sighed. “You’re a prince. Surely you have exciting tales. Tell me a story.” 

Never in a million years would she have dreamed of asking the prince to tell her a story but she was weak. She just wanted to think of something else. And Dorian was her only ally here, the only other person she could rely on not to judge her. She sighed. 

Dorian nodded. “Oh, boy, do _I_ have stories. Now listen-” 

Dorian sat on the edge of her bed and started talking in his low murmuring voice. Manon listened, and even laughed a couple of times. He was a good talker, able to weave tales out of the tiniest of things. And slowly she drifted off, comforted by the fact that she wasn’t alone.

* * *

“We’re going now,” Manon said, gripping Elide’s wrist as she tried to pull her away from Maeve and Aelin. 

This was what Aelin wanted. She didn’t owe the queen anything but Manon felt she deserved this. To take Elide and the Wyrdkeys as far away from Maeve as she could get. Where it was safe for them. 

“No,” Elide spat, thrashing. 

Manon didn’t have time for this. She admired her mindless dedication to Aelin but now wasn’t the time. Elide would never survive in the clutches of the fae. Manon wouldn't let them take her. And Aelin would never forgive any of them. 

She could feel Lorcan’s eyes on her, the possessive male who had no right to Elide in anyway, but she didn’t care. This didn’t involve him. It was his fault this was happening. 

Manon drew Wind-Cleaver and hit Elide in the side of her head. She dropped like a stone into her arms, unconscious. She lifted her and glanced once at the others. “Good luck.” Then she was leaving. She was walking away as far as she could with her over her shoulder. Not too quickly to cause suspicion but she wanted to move. Maeve and her fae warriors unnerved her. Without any backup, they’d never survive if she decided to turn on them. 

Eventually, once they were almost out of earshot, Elide started to stir. Once she’d regained consciousness, Elide started to furiously struggling. Manon dropped her and grabbed her by the back of the neck. 

“Silence,” Manon hissed. 

To her surprise, Elide did as she said. Keeping low, they peered through the grass, out of sight but enough to watch. Only a moment, to see what the queen’s fate was. 

Aelin sagged against their grip, body brutalised and bloody. They bound her in iron, the metal that would neutralise her powers so she was defenseless. No one bothered to heal the wounds on her back, probably didn’t care. 

Elide vomited into the grass. 

They listened to Lorcan swear his loyalty and Manon swore Elide might grow iron nails and kill him. For rage and anger, the betrayal. It was unlike her. 

“We need to go,” Manon murmured. 

Abraxos roared in the distance and her heart soared. She’d been so worried when he hadn’t reappeared after the four days. But he was okay. He was alive and here again. Manon wanted to run to him, press her hands against his stupid snout. 

Tears slid down Elide’s cheeks. She didn’t move. 

A while ago, Manon would have dragged her away again, not caring about her feelings. But Manon wasn’t the same person she’d been anymore. She patted her back. 

Eventually, once Maeve left, Manon managed to convince her to move. Back to where the others were gathering. Manon cared very little for them, except perhaps her ally in Dorian. But Elide, while under her claim, cared about Aelin’s court. 

As Manon approached, her heart almost stopped. 

For Abraxos was back, proudly strutting behind Aedion. But with him, he’d brought twelve other wyverns. And with them, twelve riders. 

She was alive. 

Asterin. 

Blood roared in her ears. 

Asterin was alive and well, smirking at her with a cocky grin. Manon held herself back from bursting into a run. A slight nod of acknowledgement before suddenly Rowan started yelling. 

Manon sighed. There was so much she needed to do, to say but it would have to wait. They slid into formation around her like nothing ever happened. 

Manon dealt with Aelin’s court. She guessed they were allies now as she too wanted to end Erawan and free the Ironteeth from his reign. Justice would be dealt. Her grandmother would pay. 

They argued and bickered like children, not thinking of the bigger picture. Aelin had done this to help them, give them a fighting chance. It was terrible but they needed to move on and do what needed to be done. Manon barely spoke, only to give her account of what happened. 

The one part Manin did care about was when Elide turned so viciously on Lorcan. Where she'd once defended him, she now spat in pure rage. 

Manon pulled her away, into the Thirteen's rank and they closed around her protectively. Elide ran to Asterin and threw herself sobbing into her shoulder. Asterin caught her and held her gently. Letting her cry. 

“How?” Manon breathed, giving herself this one question. 

Asterin brushed a hand over Elide's hair as she held her. “Your grandmother’s bitches gave us one hell of a chase, but we managed to gut them. We’ve spent the past month looking for you. But Abraxos found us and seemed to know where, so we followed him.” She scratched at some died blood on her cheek. “And saved your ass apparently.” 

Not enough to save Aelin, from the tears on Elide’s face. But Manon didn’t care. They were alive. The Bloodhound had lied. 

“What do we do now?” Sorrel asked from where she wrapped a slice in her forearm. 

The Thirteen all looked to her, waited. 

“Did you hear what my grandmother said before… everything?” 

“The Shadows told us,” Asterin answered, eyes dancing. 

“And?” 

“And what?” Sorrel grunted. “So you’re half Crochan.” 

“Crochan _Queen_.” 

Asterin shrugged. “Five centuries of pure-bloodied Ironteeth couldn’t bring us home. Maybe you can.” 

Of course, Asterin would never turn on her. None of them would. They'd never been aligned to the Blackbeaks or the Ironteeth—only her. 

“And will you follow me?” Manon asked them quietly. “To do what needs to be done before we can return to the Wastes?” 

As one, the Thirteen lifted their fingers to their brows. And lowered them. A gesture of respect to their queen. 

“Aelin Galathynius willingly handed over her freedom so an Ironteeth witch could walk free,” Manon said. Elide straightened, recognising the reference to her. She pulled from Asterin’s arms. Brave, she was too brave. “We owe her a life debt. And more than that… It is a time we became better than our forefathers. We are all children of this land.” 

“What are you going to do?” Asterin breathed. 

“I’m going to find the Crochans. And I am going to raise an army with them. For her. For ours.” 

“They’ll never trust us,” Sorrel said. 

“Then we’ll have to just be our charming selves.” 

A few snickered in amusement. 

“Will you follow me?” 

They pressed their hands to her brows. 

And Manon smiled. 

Manon’s eyes lingered on Asterin, waiting until she met her eyes. And Manon nodded. Asterin nodded back, silent communication passing between them. They’d talk later. 

Manon wandered back over to the others. 

It was decided. Manon didn’t care too much about the plans over the others—the less she knew, she reasoned, the better. There was every chance Erawan could come for her Thirteen. It would not be good to have all their plans on hand. Her mission was to find the remaining Crochans to build an army. 

And to help Dorian find the third key. 

When she offered to help the prince, most looked at him like he was crazy. But Dorian smiled. They’d come to trust each other over the past month and because of that, he too trusted her Thirteen. She bared her teeth in a grin. 

Elide came with them too, Manon not wanting to let her out of her sight. The Thirteen would protect her to the end, better than the others would care to. If Aelin had remained, Manon might have let her go with her. But she wasn’t. So she was her responsibility. 

Manon walked away and over to Abraxos. He couldn’t exactly smile but if he could, she reckoned he’d be smirking. She nudged him and he snorted affectionately. He’d known how much losing the Thirteen had hurt her. And so had made it his job to find them again. 

For a beast, he was smart. Manon rolled her eyes. “Okay. Thanks. That make you happy?” 

Abraxos made a noise halfway between a whine and a snort of laughter.

“Well, Manon,” Dorian smirked as he approached. “It’s you and I again. Shall we go, gorgeous?”

“Say a wrong word and you’ll ride with Vesta,” Manon retorted, but playfully. “She has a taste for human men.” 

Dorian glanced over at the witch, who waved and winked, iron teeth glinting in the fading light. He shivered. “Um, no thanks. They don’t like me.” 

“Mmhmm, perhaps.” Manon climbed into Abraxos’ saddle and offered him a hand. 

Dorian took it and climbed into the seat behind her. His hands settled respectfully around her waist, but he clung to her with a nervousness that made her chuckle. Of course. He’d never flown before. This would be an experience. 

She watched as the rest of the Thirteen climbed onto their mounts, Asterin taking Elide with her. Her arms circled the young woman, letting her rest against her. Silent tears were still falling. 

Did she really love her queen that much? 

Manon turned back in her seat. She gave the word and Abraxos rose into the air. Behind her, Dorian cursed and tightened his grip. 

“Watch those hands, your highness,” she teased as they flew. 

Dorian huffed. “Maybe. How do you do this everyday?” He winced. “It’s terrifying.” 

Manon arched an eyebrow, though he couldn’t see. Did he not know they’d once soared through the air without the need for a mount? That the wind was in her blood as much as it was in his. Maybe one day, he too could learn to fly with that magic of hers. 

Manon didn’t give him an answer and Dorian didn’t ask for one, more occupied with holding onto her and peering at the ground beneath. They rose to a dizzying height and he eventually stopped. 

The Thirteen flew in formation, heading across the land at a rapid speed. They would cover ground quickly, exactly what she needed. If her search was to go well, then she needed to get around fast. 

Manon flew for a few hours but eventually Dorian’s shivering started to get on her nerves. He wasn’t used to flying for long times, something he’d have to get used to quickly. But Manon was prepared to let him go easy today. He’d lost a good friend and now embarked on a seemingly impossible journey. He needed time. 

Manon gave the signal for them to land and they did. In a woods, far from the nearest town. It would be the ideal camping spot. They could light a fire without fear of someone coming to look. 

Manon slid off Abraxos and turned to her Thirteen. 

Now away from them, from their politics and demands, Manon allowed herself to freely feel. She was overwhelmed by these new sensations, the pounding in her chest. She’d known deep down that no one would dare keep her apart from her coven. And her. 

Asterin slid off her wyvern with Elide, gently coaxing her to stand with them. Elide was a mess. 

Asterin turned to face Manon and for the first time since, Manon properly looked at her. Her dream came to mind as did, seeing the dark, gold-flecked eyes shining back at her. Her skin was like ivory in the moonlight and her smile widened. 

Manon wanted to cry but held herself back. She was here. She was alive. 

That feeling blossomed in her chest again, warm and fierce, dragging her across the clearing to her. Asterin met her half way. So they stood face to face, not touching but just looking at one another. 

Manon couldn’t describe what it was that drove them together, didn’t know the emotion that clouded her mind. Was it love? Was she even able to? Manon didn’t know. But she felt it, that connection deep within that linked their souls for forever. 

Blood roared in her ears. One word. One word. 

_Mine._

Asterin smirked, tilting her head. 

_Yours._

“Everyone, leave us,” Manon breathed. 

Sorrel blinked. “Manon-” 

Manon couldn’t wait another second. This was a private exchange between her and Asterin. She didn’t want anyone else around to see her lose it. 

“Leave,” she snapped, baring her teeth. “That’s an order.” 

Sorrel, her Third, like a rock in the middle of a storm, huffed. “Let’s find somewhere to set up camp.” 

Elide was swept up by Fallon, both of the Demon Twins having taken quite a liking to her when she’d first come to them. Manon knew she’d been wary but eventually grew to trust them. And care for them. She was an honorary member of the Thirteen. 

“You too, princeling,” Manon snarled. 

Dorian had been lingered by a tree and straightened up. He glanced at her and then at the disappearing witches and wyverns. “Um...” 

Vesta clapped a hand to his shoulder and he flinched. “Come along, dear prince! Leave them to their fun.” 

Dorian had no choice but to follow. But his gaze was mixed between accusation, _how could you leave me with them?_ , and encouragement, _go get her_. She nodded back and he smirked. Stupid prince. 

Manon turned back to Asterin. A few seconds passed and then she was sure they were alone. Darkness swept in and they were illuminated only by moonlight. 

"Hey, Manon," Asterin said softly. 

Manon didn't know how to respond. What did she even want to say? There were no words that could possibly describe what she felt or wanted. 

Manon lunged and caught her in unawareness. Together, they tumbled to the cold ground, Manon atop her. Asterin laughed, lying on her back as she stared up at her. Manon, on all fours, hovered off her, eyes taking in her face, her eyes, _her lips_. So soft and supple, ready for her claim. 

_Mine_. 

"That's a way to greet someone," Asterin grinned. 

_Mine._

Manon wanted her more than anything in the world. Was it a relationship? Maybe. She didn’t want her to touch or be with anyone else but Manon. 

"I think I'm in love with you," Manon admitted, quiet as she manage. 

Asterin flushed, cheeks turning a gentle grey as she stared up at her. 

"Manon…" 

"I don't know if I do. But I know I want you. Like I've never wanted anything before." 

Asterin raised a hand to her cheek, cupping with a palm hardened from years of training. There darkness in her eyes. "Manon." Her breath was short, needy, desperate. "Please." 

"Please what?" 

Asterin's eyes flashed. "Kiss me." 

Manon did. She leaned down and claimed her mouth in a searing kiss, determined to show her who she belonged down. It was everything the dream had denied her. Manon swept in, using her years of experience to make Asterin weak for her. 

And it worked. 

Asterin groaned low in her throat, hands coming up to run through her hair. She was gasping into her. Her back arched upwards, wanting more contact than Manon gave her. 

Manon wanted to take her right there and then on the forest floor. 

But alas, Manon knew the Thirteen had sharp ears. 

And she wanted to make Asterin scream her name. 

But that didn't mean she couldn't relish in her touch a bit more. 

Fingers skimming down her waist and back up again, tracing patterns across her collarbones. Manon broke the kiss and hovered for a second, heart beating rapidly in her chest. She'd never kissed anyone like that before. Asterin was special. 

"I want you to be mine," Manon breathed, caressing her cheek with an iron nail. 

"I want to be yours." Asterin turned her head to her touch, pressing her lips to the iron. "Make me." 

Manon kissed her neck this time, hard enough to bruise. Asterin’s breathy moan almost sent her over the edge. But Manon knew restraint would only make it sweeter when she finally got her alone. 

And so Manon sat back and Asterin lay sprawled beneath her. 

"Who knew you were so submissive?" Manon teased. 

Asterin flushed in embarrassment, propping herself up on her elbows. "I… only for you. Usually I like to be on top." 

"Being on top doesn't mean you're in control," Manon pointed out. "Like for example-" 

Manon rolled back, legs locking to drag Asterin with her. Asterin ended up on top of her, straddling her waist. "Are you in dominant here?" Manon questioned, pressing kisses to her throat. Her hands teased up thighs, delighting in the way she tensed around her. 

"... no…" 

Manon smirked. "Exactly." 

Then she released her touch and got to her feet. Asterin followed, still shaking a little. 

"You are annoying," Asterin huffed. "I was so worried. That stunt you pulled—your grandmother was going to _kill_ you." The light in her eyes flickered. "For me." 

"I think I more than explained my reason," Manon pointed out. "You were mine. She was not going to take you." The possessive beast within her roared its agreement. Her grandmother had hurt Asterin too much. She'd pay for what she'd done to her, to countless others as well. Manon would end her tyranny. 

"Perhaps." Asterin shrugged. "I'm not letting that happen again." 

"Good. I don't want it to." Content, Manon started to walk in the direction the rest of the Thirteen had taken. "Though, I could do with you on your knees again." 

Asterin's smile was wicked. "That can be arranged." 

Manon pulled her in for one last kiss before they followed the Thirteen. In the time it had taken for that to take place, they'd already got a fire going. Thea and Kaya were missing, probably off on a hunt for food, while Dorian and Elide sat huddled from the cold. The others were tending to wyverns or other things. 

Manon nodded to all the witches as she stepped towards the prince, Asterin in tow. 

"We will rest tonight," she announced, sitting down. "Tomorrow, our hunt will begin properly." 

For the Crochan witches and his Wyrdkey. 

Dorian nodded. "Oh, thank the gods," he said, voice full of relief. "I don't think I could handle another hour flying." 

"Your flesh is weak, princeling," Asterin chuckled, sliding next to Elide. Elide leaned into her. She'd stopped crying but looked absolutely miserable. "Maybe we can toughen you up a bit." 

Dorian smiled a little and then a phantom hand flicked her hair. Playful. "I am tough." 

"Not enough," Manon grinned. 

Dorian rolled his eyes. "I feel like I'm being ganged up on here." But when he looked at her, his gaze held mischief. Manon frowned. His eyes flicked to the darkening bruise on Asterin's neck and then he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. She wanted to slap him. 

"Oh, shut up." 

Dorian grinned. "You know, I might have fun here. Witches are great." 

"I'll still drink your blood," Vesta warned, stalking into view. "Are you tasty?" 

"No. Nope. Actually very disgusting really." 

Briar snickered, a rare laugh from her Shadow. 

He'd fit in just fine. 

Asterin met her gaze and grinned. 

Tomorrow their quest would begin and the war would start to shape the world. But tonight, here hidden in the woods, Manon could relax and enjoy herself. 

Her Thirteen was alive. She'd recovered Elide from the clutches of that disgusting fae male. Her best ally—or could she finally consider him a friend?—was here. 

And best of all, her. 

Asterin. 

Manon never wanted to leave her side. Love was an emotion she didn't understand. But she could learn. And she would discover. Together. With Asterin.

For one night, life was good. 

**Author's Note:**

> Spare comments please 🥺


End file.
